Hard is the way to Shu Li Bai Oho! behold! how steep! how high!

The westward way is harder than to climb the sky.

Since the two pioneers, Put the kingdom in order, Have passed forty eight thousand years, And few have tried to pass its border.

Only birds could fly o'er White Mountains in the west, And up to Mount Brows' crest.

After the mountain crumbled and road-builders died, A rocky path was hacked along the mountain side.

Above stand peaks too high for dragons to pass o'er; Below the torrents run back and forth, churn and roar.

Even the golden crane can't fly across; How to climb over, gibbons are at aloss.

What tortuous mountain path Green Mud Ridge faces!

Around the top we make nine turns each hundred paces.

Looking up breathless, I could touch the stars nearby; Beating my breast, I sink on the ground with a sigh.